


Empty In Spirit and Alone, He Settled Down- to the Distraction

by allmilhouse



Category: Barry (TV 2018)
Genre: Blow Jobs in a Car, Hand Jobs, Implied Murder for Hire, M/M, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-04 02:05:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15831528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allmilhouse/pseuds/allmilhouse
Summary: Sent out on a hit, Barry has a bit of downtime to think abut why he's so unhappy. Fortunately, Hank drops by to check in on him





	Empty In Spirit and Alone, He Settled Down- to the Distraction

**Author's Note:**

> Heavily inspired by s1e3 Chapter Three: Make the Unsafe Choice. Title once again from Eugene Onegin
> 
> I'm so sorry

“Goddammit, this is taking too long.” He said, not for the first time that day, but for the first time to another person. 

“Patience, my friend,” came the cheery voice from the phone. Barry sighed, looking off into the horizon, clouds still covering the sky uncharacteristically. He had been stuck all day on this stakeout and nothing was happening. The mark was just sitting there, on his couch, entering hour five of watching college basketball. _It’s funny how the least athletic guys are always the most committed to watching sports_ , he thought.

A ray of sunshine fought through the clouds and Barry squinted in frustration. “Hank, I’ve got shit to do. You have an entire mob at your disposal. Get someone to take over my shift already.”

“Hmm, good idea.”

“Really?” Barry’s pulse quickened. He shot a quick glance at the clock on the console- even with traffic, there’d be enough time to make it to acting class.

"Hang on, I'll call you back." The line went dead, and Barry chucked his phone on the passenger seat in disgust. He was used to quick jobs, where he could go in, do his thing, and go back home. No time to sit all day, and dwell on the task at hand. True, he usually broke down and agonized later, in the shower, or on the plane, or at night in the hotel, all alone with his thoughts. His work was beginning to take its toll on him, and he didn't know what to do anymore. He rested his head on the steering wheel, and sighed. Barry was completely at a loss these days, but today he felt it more than ever. 

The phone rang again, pulling him from his misery. Hank. 

“Yeah, I want you there at night. Easier to make the hit after dark. Take a few hours rest, and get back there for, let’s say, 11?” Noho Hank always sounded annoyingly agreeable, which made him hard to argue with, not that that ever stopped Barry. One job didn’t mean that he was going to be a hired hand for the Chechen mob. But this was probably the fairest compromise he was going to get.

“Alright, fine. But after this, I’m done.”

“Sure you are. See you tonight!” The line went dead and Barry didn’t bother to consider Hank’s exit line as he shifted into gear and peeled off towards his class.

 

———

 

It was dark by the time he returned, about twenty minutes ahead of schedule. Enough time to get into a comfortable position and kill the headlights before officially taking over watch. The mark was still camped out on the couch, tv blaring in the background, although from the slump of his shoulders it looked like he was fast asleep. _Perfect._

Barry lit the overhead light and pulled out a rolled-up script from his backpack in the backseat. He hadn’t even got to the second page when a knock at the passenger door startled him.

It was Hank. He was smiling.

Swearing under his breath, Barry switched off the light and unlocked the door, and Hank joined him in the car.

“What the fuck was that?” he asked in a hoarse voice.

“Could ask you the same question. You’re not exactly as vigilant as your boss said.” There was a hint of disappointment in Hank’s voice that Barry fixated on. 

“First of all, Fuches isn’t my boss. And fuck you, why are you checking up on me?” Fear turned to anger as Barry was getting worked up. An unfulfilling life and growing tension will do that. “I didn’t want to do this job in the first place, but you made me. And now you need to supervise me? What kind of operation are you running here?”

He took a deep breath, ready to continue listing off grievances, but Hank smoothly interrupted by stealing his script.

“Hey, what are you reading here?” His voice was still frustratingly calm, like he hadn’t noticed Barry’s outburst.

“It’s a scene,” Barry admitted sheepishly. “And it’s mine!” He tugged it back from Hank, who still looked on placidly.

“Oh! From your acting class.”

Barry paused. “How do you know about the class?”

Hank smiled patiently. “Barry, we’re the mob. We know everything.”

“Then why are you checking up on me?” he asked suspiciously.

“I wanted some face time,” Hank explained. “You seem, well, less than enthusiastic lately. Just wanted to check in, make sure everything was hunky-dory.”

Barry looked at him like he was insane. Hank just smiled back, the friendliest-looking murderer he’d ever seen before.

“I’m just tired,” Barry finally said, not untruthfully. “I’m getting worn down, a little exhausted all the time. It’s fine.”

Hank looked on sadly. “You need to unwind, Barry. Is that why you’re taking the class?”

“Uh, yeah,” he said, recognizing a good cover story. “It was supposed to be for fun, but it’s turning into a lot of work. I have to have this memorized by tomorrow night,” he added, shaking the script for emphasis.

“Here, let me help,” Hank offered.

“Uh, well it’s a monologue so we can’t really run lines together and oh-“ Barry stopped when he felt Hank unzip his fly.

“I’m sensing a lot of tension,” Hank said nonchalantly, as if he wasn’t currently reaching into Barry’s pants and taking his half-hard dick in his hands. “You need to learn to relax, Barry.”

He settled into an easy rhythm, almost clinically efficient, but not too fast, since Hank’s shoulder was still mending from Barry shooting him. Barry’s eyes lingered on the bandage just visible over the collar on his polo shirt. He felt the odd stab of guilt over shooting Hank now and then, usually when the gangster was being extra cheerful or overly friendly. But right now as he was giving Barry the best handjob he’s had in a long time, Barry felt that maybe this was all part in bringing them together.

His eyes drifted to Hank’s face, partially illuminated from the streetlight outside. He was serious in his work, but overall his body still held its relaxed demeanour. Hank looked up, and met his confused look with reassurance. 

“See, isn’t this good? Relax in the moment.”

“How do you do it?” Barry blurted out. “I mean, you’re so positive. All the time. You’re not uncertain or lost. How can you keep it up?”

Hank smiled sadly. “Life is what you make it, Barry. You need to find happiness in what you do, and how you spend your time.” He reached his right hand over to pat Barry on the knee. “Are you really not happy, Barry?”

Barry shrugged. “I haven’t been for a while. I thought I might be, when I first got here. The acting class helped at first, but now..." He trailed off, unsure where he was going. Hank gave a sympathetic nod, before leaning over to kiss Barry softly. It surprised him, but not as much as Hank leaning down to take his dick in his mouth. 

"Sorry, but the arm is still garbage," he explained, pulling back for a second, before resuming the surprise blowjob. Unsure of what to do, Barry's hands gripped the steering wheel. His thumbs drummed rapidly, the tension mounting in his body. Hank was impressively good at this, and it felt like no time at all before Barry yelled a vague warning. But Hank didn't let up, and swallowed everything like an expert. He got Barry presentable again before sitting back up and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

Barry sat, frozen, unable to ask "what the fuck was that?". Hank just looked at him, grinning slightly, before turning his attention back through the windshield. 

"Hey, he's still sleeping on the couch. Go do your thing, Barry. I'll wait for you. We can go talk some more, or I can help you run lines again." it was impossible to sound that innocent but look that suggestive, but Hank pulled it off. 

Gradually coming back to reality, Barry remembered. _Oh right, the job._ Still stunned, Barry somehow got to his feet and exited the car. Gun concealed in his pocket, he got halfway to the front door before looking back. Hank was still in the passenger seat as promised, happily watching him. He gave him an encouraging thumbs up, wincing a bit as he moved his injured arm. 

Something stirred in Barry's chest, a faint fondness maybe. He turned back to the house, determined. Hank made him feel good, and not just about being a hitman either. Whether they did actually read lines, or maybe fooled around a bit in the backseat, Barry wanted to get back in the car with Hank as soon as he could. The moonlight lit Barry's path ahead of him, and he walked with a spring in his step, for the first time in weeks.


End file.
